


(After God Herself)

by Kankerclub



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Divine Meg Halsey, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Reincarnation, Religion, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kankerclub/pseuds/Kankerclub
Summary: Herbert's surprised to find out he made it into Heaven.
Relationships: Daniel Cain/Herbert West
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	(After God Herself)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Egg](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/754908) by Andy Wier. 



> No trigger warnings! FYI, there is one, single mention of Hitler by Dan if that is something that might upset you??
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted to write a silly little fic about Dan and Herb in the afterlife and Meg being a spunky goddess. Shameless inserts of my own spiritual beliefs as well.
> 
> Enjoy!

Herbert could think of a million reasons why he wouldn’t be going to Heaven. Hell, he didn’t even believe in the damn place. And yet, there he was.

And there was Dan. He looked so different. He was smiling. He looked relaxed for the first time in his life. Herbert hadn’t wanted to die because he expected in death he would see Dan again. He wanted to die because he thought he never would see Dan again.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it into Heaven,” Dan murmurs to him. “Considering all the bodies I’ve mutilated with you over the years.”

“Of course you’d make it into Heaven, Dan, you’re a fucking pure-hearted saint.” Herbert spits with conviction. “Quite surprised I’m here though.”

“Why?” Dan asks. “If I’m here, you should be too.”

Herbert’s in Heaven. No, Herbert’s in some strange picturesque, kaleidoscope version of what he thought biblical Heaven would be. A shared nirvana, because they're soulmates or some shit. He still can’t seem to comprehend it. You know, the whole situation. How he died. Where he is.

But it doesn't really matter why, how, or where. It just matters that they're here. In their weird Heaven, stuck together forever and ever. Just like Dan wanted, right? Probably. Him and his fuck-buddy Herbert. He said it so many times.

_I know you don’t believe in that shit, and I know that the Catholics don’t really like fags, either. But I still like to daydream about it. It makes me happy. It brings me peace. I, y'know, just grew up that way._

Herbert was raised Jewish. He _should_ understand Dan’s fascination with holy figures, the lord, and his imaginary Heaven. But he doesn’t. Never did. Never wanted to. The logic was: why should he entertain invisible, so-called ‘mystical’ forces? There’s no good in deluding himself with that. Not one bit.

But maybe, he can be more sympathetic to the notion of an afterlife now. Because he’s literally stuck there. Caged within pinkish, purple-tinted, translucent skin. Hovering over the ground like a ghost. A soul. This isn't the conventional Protestant Heaven, that’s for sure.

There’s sparkling in the middle of his chest. An eruption of blues, blacks, reds, and jaundiced yellows. It almost looks cellular. DNA-like. Spinning, spinning, spinning. His being. The strands of electricity erupting from his core are blending with everything. Compounding. Just like he’s sinking into the background, becoming one with the vibrant scenery.

It’s like sticking his finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. He puts a tiny part of himself into the vessel, and when he brings it back out, he’s gained all the experiences it had. It’s actively transforming him, expanding his consciousness.

If Herbert ever took hallucinogens, this is what he’d imagine the trip to look like. A full-fledged painting of mist upon cloudy crests, milky ways for miles, cosmic energy all around. The warping feeling of serenity, a detachment from earthly desires.

It’s dark. They’re glowing. Dan is crying with euphoria. And Herbert’s just standing there. Too busy entertaining an existential crisis to feel joyful. He envisioned death to be final. The end to all mortal means. The solution to all trivial, day-to-day tasks like eating, sleeping, and going to work at Miskatonic.

Herbert doesn’t want to be here. He was supposed to rot in the ground. This isn’t what he intended for. And it’s all coming back to him now.

Dan and Herbert were on their way home from the hospital nightshift. There was a car accident, Dan ran a red light out of exhaustion. Going 60. Their station wagon instantly crumpled. Flew off the road. T-boned by a bright red Delorean. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal none-the-less.

They left behind two cats. Gruber and Rufus 2.0. Both sleek, black kittens with bright green eyes. It was a relatively painless death. Brain trauma. Dan died on impact, Herbert died from a brain bleed at the scene. The EMTs tried their best to save him but to no avail. His genius was so bruised and minced, things are probably better off this way.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” Dan asks. Still teary. Happy. He sits down on the metaphorical ground. He’s just suspended mid-air, legs crossed, like there’s physical flooring beneath him. There isn't.

Herbert crosses his arms, but it doesn’t feel like anything. Yet, at the same time, it feels like every single sensation he’s experienced in his past life. The warm squeeze of his dead grandma’s hugs, Dan’s bittersweet kisses, and all the paper cuts that have made him tear up as a kid.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? I don’t fucking believe in God, Daniel.”

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any God here, man. Honestly, I think it’s just us, so I don’t think it’s rational to be so angry, Herb.” Dan remarks. Picking at his nails. Actually, there aren’t any nails. It’s just an illusion of flesh. A fake body, with human features that serve no purpose besides containing his soul and radiating emotional auras.

Herbert looks around. Doesn’t shift on his feet, though. There’s nothingness. Just him and Dan and enchanting swirls of color flowing throughout. It’s weird. Neither of them fully resemble humans. They look slightly like men. Or possibly, like women. Some vague, ever-changing higher beings, maybe. More of genderless spirits than the Jewish almighty, or an angel.

“Are we Gods, then?”

“Fuck no…” Dan thinks for a moment. “Do I look divine to you?”

“Yes, I mean, you’re practically a beacon of light, Dan.”

“No, asshole. I was being rhetorical. I’m not divine, I’m just dead.”

Herbert rolls his eyes. Digests that. Tries to. “So what now? Do we just stay here forever?”

“I dunno,” Dan shrugs, “Maybe go ask her?”

“What? Who?”

“Meg,” he says as if it’s nothing.

Herbert just blinks at him. “Meg?”

“Yes, you idiot,” Dan grins. “Turn around.”

So Herbert does. Just spins on his heels, gracefully. Wobbles a little at the unique sensation of not really using his legs. Simply levitating in this crevasse of the universe.

In the distance, there’s a woman. Floating across the abyss on wispy legs. Fluorescent glitter trails behind her. Neon green. She’s smiling, crying, and Dan’s running. And that’s it. A burst of primordial luminescence fills the warm atmosphere.

The two are hugging. It’s not romantic. More like a _fuck, I haven’t seen you in so long_ type of reunion. Herbert hangs back a distance, lets them shed their sorrows by rocking back and forth, twirling and giggling.

It’s a magical sight. Ethereal. Meg’s hair is feathery, almost. Bright white, off-color. Her eyes are that same poignant green that radiates off her astronomical skin. She’s naked but genital-less. It’s just smoothed over lithe muscle across her body, pretty pink. The same, odd species that Dan and Herbert are.

Quickly, Dan’s pulling away. He takes Herbert’s hand. Presses his airy lips against Herbert’s. Homoerotic, as always. This time, it doesn’t feel wrong. It’s almost instinctual for Herbert to kiss back and curl his fingers in Dan’s stupid fucking mullet. Like it’s natural. Like it’s somehow not a universal sin to embrace another man far too tenderly.

Meg’s just grinning at them. Beaming. As if she somehow knew they were lovers, star-bound. As if she isn’t mad about her death during the Miskatonic Massacre, all those distant years ago. She seemingly hasn’t aged since then. But neither have they.

Herbert looks young and twenty again. Dan, around nineteen. Time and age doesn’t seem to function properly in this place. It feels like he’s been here before. In a dream, maybe a re-agent induced hallucination, or something of the sort.

They start walking, forward, towards no discernable direction. It all looks the same. Morphing, psychedelic landscapes for miles. But it starts to change while they chat. Slowly.

The new area is… pleasant. All grey-blue mist sure, but a light, warm kind of mist, an early-summer morning mist. Wandering around as well were different guides to the afterlife. Psychopomps. Gastly-appearing, cloud-like reapers, twelfth-dimensional beings, Gods, and angels from every religion existing. Meg waves at some of them, and they respond in their own vulgar way.

“Where are we going?” Herbert asks, all wide-eyed and curious.

Meg bristles. Body shifting, splitting. It's something unholy. She’s not in any visible pain. Can they _even_ feel pain?

“Nowhere in particular,” she hums. Melodic. Soothing. Like he has the answers to all his metaphysical queries. She keeps on fidgeting. Glitching, almost. “It’s just nice to walk while we’re here.”

“Is this Heaven?”

“Not quite.”

Herbert furrows his brow. “Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t really have a name. It’s the half-way point between life and death. You're here, aren’t you? That’s all that matters.”

“I guess...” he mutters. “So what happens next?”

“You’ll be reincarnated,” she hums. Not giving it much thought.

“Ah, so the Hindus were right.”

“Well, all religions are right in their own way, I’d argue.”

“Okay… so what’s the point then?” Dan chimes in. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter. Same with Herb.”

She stops dead in her tracks. Takes Dan by the shoulders with both hands. Her see-through flesh melts into his. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine, Danny. You’ve been in a human for the last 39 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“We’ve been here before?” Herbert asks.

“Oh, sure. Lots and lots of times. And in lots and lots of different lives. This time around, you’ll both be Greek peasant boys in 425 B.C.”

“Wait, what?” Dan stammers. “We're being sent back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” Herbert furrows his brow.

“Oh sure,” she explains “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. Divine beings. I know you guys want to know what it’s like there, but honestly, you two wouldn’t understand, yet.”

“Oh,” Dan mumbles, a little let down. Deflates. “But wait—if we get reincarnated to other places in time, we could have interacted with ourselves at some point.”

“Sure, dear. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you two don’t even know it’s happening.”

Dan shakes his head in disbelief. “So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” She challenges. Appalled. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” Herbert persists. “You are God, aren’t you? Or one of them? I don’t know?”

Meg looks him in the eye. Smiles so bubbly and bright. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you two to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you and Dan. I made this whole universe just for you two. With each new life, you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just us? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” She says. “In this universe, there’s just you two, my colleagues up here, and me. Every single time you've met or loved me, I was simply pretending to be a human.”

They stare blankly at her. “But all the other people on earth…”

“All you two. Different incarnations of you.”

Herbert sours his face. “Wait, what? We’re... everyone?”

“Now you’re getting it,” she sing-songs, with a congratulatory pat on the back.

“We’re every human being who ever lived?” Dan questions. Genuine curiosity.

She giggles. “Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m John F. Kennedy?” Herbert simpers.

“And you’re Lee Harvey Oswald, too,” she adds, pointing to Dan.

“I’m Hitler…?” Dan blurts, horrified.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

Herbert doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m Jesus?”

“Suprise, you’re also everyone who followed him!”

They fall silent. Overwhelmed. White-noise drones as they wait for her to lend more knowledge. Dan can’t even begin to comprehend the fact that his ex-girlfriend is somehow an interdimensional goddess. He wants to ask, but can’t bring himself to.

“Every time you victimized someone,” she finally speaks, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

They think about it for a long time. Mull over Meg’s celestial philosophy. The path to her vision of utmost maturity.

“Why?” Dan asks, shaking a fist. Almost a little annoyed. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my children, or siblings, in human terms. Like Adam and Eve, but less weird.”

“Whoa,” Herbert says, incredulous. Mad with metaphorical power. “You mean we’re Gods? Did I create a bug in your code with my re-agent?”

“No, I designed that myself, fool. And you’re no God, yet either. Humble yourself, Herbert. You’re both fetuses. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born, and have your own universes of your own.”

“So this whole universe,” Dan whispers, “it’s just…”

“My fantasy.” She answers. Nodding. Clicking her teeth. There’s a silly smirk curling on her lips. “Now, I think it’s time for you two to move on to your next lives. Don’t worry about missing me, I’ll come visit you two, and it’s not like you’ll remember it in the first place. Won’t I just look adorable in a peplos?”

And with a flick of her feminine wrist, a deep void cracks open in their continuum. It's filled with sublime blackness and snaking gold, purple patterns. They’re automatically protesting about wanting to stay and talk more, but she doesn’t give in. Meg just keeps on smiling, takes them by the shoulder, and launches them into the abyss.

Back on Earth, they plunge into the world, born to separate mothers. Unaware and infantile. Eventually, they’ll all meet each other again. Meg's every urge and whim defines when that will be. For now, Dan and Herbert must grow and thrive as humans to become their greatest selves, preparing for that same, shared, cosmic divinity.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem "(After God Herself)" by Justice Ameer.
> 
> Heavily, and I mean heavily, based upon the short story "The Egg" by Andy Wier. Go give the animated short a watch!


End file.
